Although Jerold didn’t think about it when he decided to leave his brother and the other barbarians to pursue his revenge it was the first time he had been alone in years. The quiet of nature was oddly reassuring to him. As dusk descended on empty road Jerold decided to make a camp just out of sight from the path. Sleeping alone in the wild should have concerned him more than it did but, with the few supplies he had, he did what he could before drifting off to the sound of nearby branches swaying gently in the night breeze.
Eyes still shut Jerold could hear the footsteps of something approaching. He lay perfectly still hoping it was just some local game. He cursed to himself under his breath when he heard their voices. “He should sell well at market.” Fitting last thoughts Jerold thought. He grabbed his flambard and rose from his makeshift bed just as an arrow flew from one of the bandits striking his arm. This did little to quell the rage that those words had instigated. Before he could notch a second arrow Jerold had already closed the distance and skewered the archer.
As the body of the first man was falling to the ground Jerold turned to the second bandit. If that man had any intention of engaging Jerold it melted away when he saw the unfiltered anger in his eyes. He ran.
If there was ever joy to be found in killing it was at the slaughter of those in the slave trade. The laughter of the gargantuan barbarian spurred him on even faster. He only had it make it a few hundred yards and he would be within sight of the camp.
The men on watch initially started laughing when they saw their scout sprinting at full speed towards the camp. Thinking he had been startled by the wind. When he saw Jerold closing the gap he gathered the other men by his post thinking that they might be lucky enough to have a slave come to them for a change. They all figured that he would turn around when he saw the 5 of them standing at the ready for him. By the time they had realized their mistake their friend had been run down. They just managed to sound the alarm when Jerold reached them. It was the last thing they did. With one mighty swing Jerold had collected three of their heads and the counter swing from the fourth seem to have little effect glancing off the side of Jerold. He then brought his flambard down slicing from shoulder to groin leaving the man in bloody heap on the ground.
The last man saw wisdom in retreating back to camp. No longer in the mood for running Jerold used the severed head of one of his fallen foes to slow the retreat of the last man. There was a loud crack as skull collided with skull and the bandit fell, his comrades head landing next to his own. He was able to get up to a knee before the blade pinned him back to the ground.
There was no solid defense inside the camp, although they had heard the alarm no one know exactly where it had come from and there was no sizable group of intruders anywhere in site. One by one bandits fell as they came across him, some prepared, most not. It had been less than five minutes since he was awoken by the scavenging party and the bandit camp had been reduced to chaos.
With the fatigue of battle beginning to set in Jerold came across a bit of a rundown looking man. As soon as he had engaged him it was clear that he was no ordinary bandit. It was Rustiver’s reluctance to return swings that allowed him to convince Jerold of his true purpose of being in the camp that night. After a short conversation as they gathered what they could carry from the camp. Jerold discovered they were both headed in the same direction. He would have to be careful until he could discover his true intentions but Rustiver could make a fair travel companion.